


to tread upon the air

by starkly



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, marvel 1872 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 01:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13916496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkly/pseuds/starkly
Summary: Steve and Tony celebrate the one year anniversary of Tony arriving in Timely.





	to tread upon the air

**Author's Note:**

> Another entry for the 2018 [Cap-IronMan](https://cap-ironman.dreamwidth.org/) Alphabet Challenge! Z is for **zephyr** , a soft gentle breeze, or a west wind. In Greek mythology, Zephyrus was the personification of the west wind and the bringer of light spring and early summer breezes; it has usually been considered the mildest and most favorable of the directional winds. (Thanks, Wikipedia.)
> 
> Apparently I only write cute and fluffy 1872 fics to counteract 1872's actual canon. Thanks again to [cupcakeenigma](http://cupcakeenigma.tumblr.com) for looking this over for me. This fic has a tumblr post [here](http://aleator.tumblr.com/post/171841078604).

Parting they seem'd to tread upon the air,  
Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart  
Only to meet again more close, and share  
The inward fragrance of each other's heart.  
— John Keats,  _Isabella, or the Pot of Basil_

 

They’ve been riding for a while now. Tony wonders where they’re going, or how Sheriff Rogers can stand to leave Timely unattended for so long. They ride out past the railroad tracks, out past the Barton household. There’s nothing out here but desert and the twisting river that cuts through the dry landscape. When he looks back over his shoulder, he can see the buildings that make up Timely on the horizon.

 

As if able to hear what Tony’s thinking, Steve slows his horse to a stop a few moments later. Or maybe it’s because they’ve reached the riverbank and can’t continue without crossing. Tony reins in his horse as well, looking around without letting his confusion show. There’s nothing here but the river and a few trees somehow keeping themselves alive.

 

Steve doesn’t seem perturbed, easily hopping down from his horse and removing one of his bags from the saddle. With slightly less grace, Tony dismounts and brushes dust from his trousers.

 

“All right, I give in. What did you bring me out here for?”

 

“A break,” Steve says simply, carrying his bag toward the dismally small copse. He sets it down in the shade, then walks back to the horses, taking both sets of reins and leading the animals to the river to drink.

 

Tony stays where he is, arms crossed over his chest. “A break from what?”

 

“Everything.” Steve rubs a gloved hand over the neck of Tony’s dapple-gray mare as she drinks, then leaves the two horses to mind their own business for the time being. He crouches down by the unloaded saddlebag, pulling out a blanket and spreading it on the ground under the shade of the trees. Tony just watches him as he continues to unpack a bottle and handkerchief wrapped around what’s apparently their supper, setting everything down on the blanket.

 

“Is this a picnic?” Tony asks even though it clearly is. “Such a romantic.” Still, he finally goes over to join Steve, cautiously sitting down on the edge of the blanket. The afternoon air is warm despite the shade, and he shrugs off his jacket, setting it aside.

 

“You didn’t have to come with me.”

 

Tony shoots him a look. “You said you had something to show me. I never thought Sheriff Rogers would stoop to such trickery.”

 

Steve looks back at him with a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Never?”

 

“Never,” he repeats, reaching for the bottle and checking the year. Not bad. Steve must’ve paid a pretty penny for this. That, or someone very grateful for his services had gifted it to him. Steve retrieves two cups from his bag, putting one by Tony’s knee and holding the other out, and Tony takes it and pours him only a few swallows, knowing Steve doesn’t drink much.

 

To his surprise, Steve puts a hand over Tony’s on the bottle, tilting it back over the cup to fill it mostly full. At some point he’d removed his gloves, the calluses on his fingers rubbing against Tony’s bare skin. When Steve lets go, Tony doesn’t relinquish the cup, and Steve has to gently pry it from his hand.

 

Spurring himself back into motion at last, Tony pours himself a glass and sets down the bottle. “You don’t usually drink,” he says, pointing out the obvious.

 

“I thought we could celebrate,” Steve answers, raising his glass.

 

“Celebrate what?”

 

Steve gives him an odd look. “You’ve been in Timely a year.”

 

Tony doesn’t even hide his surprise this time. Has it truly been a year? The time had gone so fast, he hadn’t even realized. “You’ve been counting.”

 

Steve shrugs. “Not much happens in Timely.” He glances down at his battered tin cup, certainly not good enough for this quality of drink, then looks back up at Tony. “You’re the most exciting thing that’s happened all year.”

 

“All right,” Tony says with a smile, lifting his own cup. “I’ll drink to that.”

 

* * *

 

The warm spring afternoon turns to cool spring evening, and somehow Tony finds himself pressed against Steve’s side, a large blanket wrapped around both of them to stave off the chill. Steve’s leaning back against a tree trunk that doesn’t look sturdy enough to support one man, let alone two, but so far they’ve remained upright. If Steve’s made uncomfortable by the situation, sharing his blanket or being so close to Tony, he hasn’t shown it.

 

They spent most of the afternoon talking and sharing Steve’s food, and now the conversation has slowed but the occasional silences aren’t awkward or uneasy at all. Tony continues to slowly sip at the wine, though Steve stopped at one cup earlier. Now he’s pointing out constellations to Tony just visible in the darkening sky while Tony smiles and listens like he doesn’t already know about any of them. When he asks questions, Steve answers eagerly, and Tony asks more just to see Steve smile.

 

At some point Steve stops talking, and Tony only figures out why when he realizes he’d fallen asleep on Steve’s shoulder. He hurriedly sits up, but Steve doesn’t get upset or try to push him away. In fact, Steve’s looking at him and...smiling, like he had been when explaining the constellations.

 

“Sorry,” Tony says anyway. “Was I out long?”

 

“Not really,” Steve says softly, though Tony notes that the moon is fully shining, which means he must’ve been out for more than a few minutes. It’s colder now that the sun’s completely gone, and Tony shivers, only for Steve to put an arm around him, tightening the blanket wrapped around them.

 

“Sheriff—”

 

“I think by now you can call me Steve.”

 

A pause. “Steve, then. What are we doing?”

 

Steve doesn’t give any of the obvious answers, for which Tony’s grateful, but he also doesn’t give any answer at all. They’ve been dancing around _something_ lately, something that neither of them have been willing to name, or take any further than this. Maybe they just need a push.

 

A gentle breeze wafts through the trees, ruffling Steve’s hair, oddly warm for this time of night. Steve leans down ever so slightly, and Tony fights the urge to lean forward to meet him.

 

“I’m glad you came to Timely,” Steve says, cautious but sincere. “I know you ended up here to get away from everything that happened back east, and I hope you found what you were looking for, whatever that is.”

 

‘ _Whatever’_ is sitting right here beside him, and Tony doesn’t know how to voice it. So he doesn’t voice it at all but gives in to that urge from before. He leans in slowly, allowing Steve time to move or block him, but Steve, to his surprise, does nothing of the sort. His hand tightens on Tony’s arm and he pulls him closer, their lips meeting in the middle, just like Tony had imagined moments ago, and many, many times before then.

 

Steve kisses him softly but with conviction, no hesitation in him now. It’s Tony who leans back first, looking at Steve with wide eyes. He can still feel Steve’s mouth against his, the phantom sensation making his lips tingle. And that was barely a kiss; he can’t even imagine how a proper kiss would affect him.

 

“Am I still asleep?” Tony whispers, licking his lips, and stares up at Steve. “Surely this is a dream.”

 

Steve smiles, leaning forward again and resting his forehead against Tony’s. “I sure hope not. Otherwise I’ll have to do this all over again when you wake up.”

 

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Tony says, and closes the distance between them to kiss Steve again. He’s more confident this time, certain it’s not some fever dream causing hallucinations or something more sinister. It’s just him and Steve, still not putting into words that ‘something’ between them, but putting it into action.

 

The blanket slips from around Tony’s shoulders as Steve grips his upper arm tighter, holding him close as they kiss. Despite the cool air, Steve feels warm all over, from his hand on Tony’s arm to where they’re pressed together chest to chest. And his mouth, oh, his mouth. It’s like a brand against his skin, hot to the touch, but he wants so much more and yet nothing else besides it. He never wants to stop kissing Steve.

 

Like all good things that happen to him, it doesn’t last. Eventually Steve leans back and the two of them sit there, staring at each other. In the bright moonlight Tony can still see Steve’s face perfectly, like he’s illuminated from within. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.

 

“We should head back,” Steve says softly, and just like that it breaks the spell. Tony looks away, back towards town, a smattering of lights against the dark horizon.

 

“Of course.” He pulls away, the rest of the blanket falling off him, and stands, brushing dust from his pants. He picks up his jacket from where he originally left it, shaking it out and putting it back on. When he looks back up, Steve hasn’t moved. He’s still sitting down with the spare blanket wrapped half around him, watching Tony gather his things. “Something wrong?”

 

“I think you’ve misconstrued my intentions,” Steve replies, standing up at last. He folds the blanket up, putting it back in his saddlebag. “I want you to come back with me.”

 

Tony tilts his head slightly. “Where else would I go, there’s nothing around but Timely.”

 

“To my place,” Steve clarifies, no hesitation. “If you’re interested.”

 

Tony stares at him, wondering if he’s still misinterpreting something or Steve really is being that forward already. Either way, he smiles widely, tucking his hands into his pockets as he says, “Should I be worried about my virtue, Sheriff?”

 

“If you’ve any virtue left to worry about, perhaps,” Steve teases back just as easily, making Tony laugh.

 

They clean up the rest of their picnic in comfortable silence, but as they walk over to where their horses are tethered, Steve pauses and gives Tony a look that’s far more uncertain.

 

“You never actually answered,” he says, hefting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “If you’re interested.”

 

“Steve,” Tony replies, more confidently than he’s felt in a long time, “I am very interested.”

 

Steve’s resounding smile is as bright as the stars and moon above them, and Tony can’t help but smile back. He hadn’t expected much from this tiny nowhere town when he settled here a year ago, but now he’s looking forward to what other surprises Timely has in store for him in the years to come.

**Author's Note:**

> How about a snippet from another poem now.
> 
> What joy have I in June's return?  
> My feet are parched—my eyeballs burn,  
> I scent no flowery gust;  
> But faint the flagging Zephyr springs,  
> With dry Macadam on its wings,  
> And turns me "dust to dust."  
> — Thomas Hood,  _Town and Country, An Ode Imitated from Horace_


End file.
